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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26843002">a four hundred dollar suit and a cold october morning.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/trekkietracks/pseuds/trekkietracks'>trekkietracks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The A-Team (TV), The A-Team - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, He got a kid oops, It's statistically very probable, Just estranged tingzz, Kid Fic, Like I mean the IDEA of this FUCKING CLOWN having a child, OR IS IT, Parenthood, face being a stupid Fuck as usual, i don't make the rules, lights hints at face/murdock, the discord made me do this</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:08:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,266</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26843002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/trekkietracks/pseuds/trekkietracks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time he sees her, he knows he's been conned. </p><p>He lets it slide. </p><p>If the Con is an art, Conning a Con man is the Mona Lisa</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>H. M. "Howling Mad" Murdock/Templeton "Faceman" Peck, Templeton peck &amp; original character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This piece of work was written as I procrastinate for my essay due tomorrow. It was also all written in an hour I'm just putting them in chapters for dramatic effect. I rlly hope I don't fail English 😙✌️</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time he sees her, he knows he’s been conned.</p><p>It’s easy for one conman to see the other, but he lets this one slide. The joy on the younger girl’s face as she throws and catches the delicate bauble reminds him a little of earlier days. </p><p> </p><p>When things were easier. </p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t look any older than ten or twelve, but Face knows the glint in her eyes. It’s the same glint anyone gets when they know they’ve run a con.</p><p> </p><p>And before he knows it, he’s persuaded Hannibal that they could surely “let a decoration go.” </p><p> </p><p>It’s not his fault nobody can refuse his honey sweet voice (not even the colonel).</p><p> </p><p>That bauble probably cost $400 dollars, and they had twelve in the back of their truck. Eleven now. </p><p> </p><p>They’d been given as a fee, a payment from a client for their service.</p><p>That was $400 from their total. Face makes a note of this in his mind, to not speak about it again.</p><p>Hopefully they won’t. </p><p> </p><p>Won’t remember that some kid outconned the conman, in front of his entire team. On the street, right in front of their last mission. </p><p> </p><p><em>Hopefully</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So bad boys i am SICK so no English essay 😙 ✌️✌️✌️</p><p>So i am in joyyy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next time he catches sight of those stupidly mischievous brown eyes is in a restaurant nearly a fortnight later.</p><p>He’s there on a date, and is blushing (for once) when he hears his date speak. </p><p> </p><p>But all of that goes out of the window when he sees the same girl playfighting with someone who looks like her sister.</p><p>Their forks clanging together like it’s some final battle.</p><p>When she notices him staring, her cheeks go red in embarrassment. But then she blinks and turns around again effortlessly, humming absentmindedly.</p><p>Like nothing happened. </p><p> </p><p>Like she didn’t steal a $400 christmas bauble from them.</p><p> </p><p>Which led to $400 being taken out of his share. </p><p> </p><p>But honestly <em>his</em> fault for letting it slide. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>He's never been rejected before.</p><p>Rejection?? On a bus???</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>a team consumed me like ,,,</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The third time he sees her, is on a Bus. </p><p> </p><p>A Bus a year later. </p><p> </p><p>Books thrown all over a double seat, pen furiously scribbling away.</p><p>Focus.</p><p>That’s what she has now. Focus that’s keeping her anchored to that page full of writing. The same determination he'd seen in his own eyes when he was sure he wanted to get something.</p><p>He’s wearing a $400 suit. </p><p>A $400 suit on a Bus. </p><p>This was apparently part of Hannibal’s plan.</p><p>(Really Hannibal? What kinda stupid plan involved him on a bus in an expensive suit?)</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t make eye contact with her once.</p><p> </p><p>She looks up from her book and side eyes the window.Her stop’s soon and she’s panicking about her essay.</p><p>She jolts when she sees the reflection of the blonde haired man she got that bauble off. </p><p> </p><p>The group looked so easy to nab one off, and the baubles looked so enticing that she just had to have one. </p><p> </p><p>But she didn’t <em>steal</em> them per say.</p><p>Just <em>convinced</em> them to <em>give</em> it to her.</p><p>Easy Peasy.   </p><p> </p><p>She shoves the books into her bag and gets up to leave at her stop. The bus comes to a sudden turn (one she KNEW about, and she beats herself over it because she knows this route like the back of her hand) and her textbooks drop from her hands, scattering onto the floor. </p><p> </p><p>“Here lemme help,” a LA accented voice says, and he picks up three books with one hand. </p><p> </p><p>She notices the white suited arm and it leads up to the same man.</p><p> </p><p>Panic rising, she gives him a polite smile as he hands the books back, and then begins to turn on her heel. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m Peck,” he starts, holding his arm out, “Templeton Peck.” </p><p>She regards his arm, and then his face, “Good.” she says, her expression neutral. She blinks and holds her books, and gives another polite smile. </p><p> </p><p>Then she walks off.</p><p> </p><p>He's never been rejected before. </p><p>Not once.</p><p>And now? On a bus??</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>committing theft from a thief. Do the crimes cancel each other out???</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The fourth time she sees him, it’s on the newspaper. </p><p> </p><p>And she <em>curses</em>. </p><p> </p><p>Did she commit theft from a <em>fugitive???</em> Did that count as <em>crime squared??</em> Or crime <em>square rooted?? </em></p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t want to think about that. </p><p> </p><p>She had this newspaper thrown in her face approximately five minutes ago at school from her best friend who said she “smiled like this man”.</p><p>She did not. </p><p> </p><p>At least, not most of the time. </p><p> </p><p>She didn’t use that smile unless she was in some shitty situation and had to get out of it with charm instead anything else. </p><p> </p><p>So quite a lot then.</p><p> </p><p>She reads on, and the more she reads, the more she recognises the bullshit he's pulled.</p><p>and curses again.</p><p>Because, fucking hell.</p><p>She <em>WAS</em> a bit like this guy.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She’s off to the LA courier express for a one to one reporting workshop.</p><p>She stands in the doorway excitedly. Thinking about all the questions she wanted to ask, and all the articles she wanted to see.</p><p>She loves journalism, loves reading the paper.</p><p>Loves digging around to find the truth. </p><p> </p><p>It's not really her fault she can’t help but lie sometimes.</p><p>  </p><p>She’s wanted to come here all her life, see the inner workings of an actual newspaper office. See how actual reporters work. </p><p> </p><p>The reporter who’s working with her is called Amy Amanda Allen, and the first thing she says when Akashti smiles at her is that she reminds her of some guy she’s working with. </p><p> </p><p>Amy’s great, they talk about everything from reporting in troubled areas to finding stories wherever you go.</p><p>When she asks to see who Amy’s been working with, Amy smiles and says it’s all confidential. </p><p> </p><p>“A phone call! That’s all. And I won’t tell anyone!” </p><p>“No,” she sighs, “this is proper dangerous stuff.”</p><p> “A recording?” she questions, her eyes lighting up after she saw the recording device on the table. </p><p>“Sure! But it’s gonna have to be short.” And then she inserts a tape and clicks play. </p><p> </p><p>The audio starts off with an explosion, and screaming. She turns towards the reporter, a look of absolute joy, this sounded like something out of an action movie. Then, voices speak over each other. </p><p> </p><p>“I love it when a plan comes together!” someone relishes, although gasping for breath.</p><p> </p><p>“This plan did NOT come together”, that’s Amy’s voice, she knows that.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh haaaaaanibaaaaaaal….” a voice whines and everything comes to a stop. Same LA accented voice, with the same whine. She can almost imagine his face as he says that. With the same $400 suit.  </p><p> </p><p>“You’ve got to be <em>fucking kidding me</em>.” She mutters under her breath, one more time she bumps into this guy, she’s calling the cops. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next time she’s there for a session with the reporters; Amy’s missing.</p><p>She’s going to be coming back soon, so they just tell her to sit in reception. But she can't stay in one place too long.</p><p>So as any other stir crazy teen would, she takes a peek into Amy's office, and one desk drawer deep, she finds a picture of Amy with a bunch of guys. </p><p> </p><p>The van, she recognises, from nearly two years ago. It was pretty hard to miss, with the big red stripe in the middle. </p><p>The man with the hat? She doesn’t know him.</p><p>The man with all the gold? Nada</p><p>The man with the cigar? Probably ‘hanibaaaaaal’</p><p> </p><p>And the last one. </p><p> </p><p>Suited, grinning and with the same blonde hair she’s seen four times now. </p><p>This has <em>got</em> to stop.</p><p> </p><p>She saunters out, still shaking a little. He’s probably the same guy Amy said she was like, Akashti just knows it.</p><p> </p><p>The steps outside look like a good place to clear her head, and so she flops down there, keeping her eyes on the cars that pass the garage.</p><p>It’s a great distraction, mindless counting.</p><p>She liked it. </p><p> </p><p>When that distinctive van pulls up, she doesn’t have time to pull herself off the steps fast enough. The front door opens, and an older man steps out, lighting a cigar.</p><p>He doesn’t notice her. </p><p> </p><p>The guy with all the gold stretches as he comes out of the drivers seat. A little gold being taken off when he felt his shoulders.</p><p>He doesn’t notice her.</p><p> </p><p>The back door pulls open and out jumps the guy with the hat, sock puppet on hand. His brown eyes catch her own, and they soften up. He gives a small grin and waves.  </p><p> </p><p>“What are you looking at?” </p><p> </p><p>Fuck.</p><p> </p><p>“That kid over there,” he points at her, “dunno what she’s doing here.”</p><p> </p><p>“You again?”</p><p> </p><p>Akashti flushes, blinking slowly as she processes what happens. She’d just been sitting there waiting for her session to start, counting cars. </p><p> </p><p>She pulls out a smile, smile #8. The one she usually uses when her teachers are staring at her for homework that should have been done years ago, or when some lie she’s been weaving is spotted. Believe it or not 16 year olds need that smile more often than full blown con men.</p><p>Or so she thinks.</p><p> </p><p>“I….I can explain…” she nervously chuckles, hoping it doesn't sound as nervous as she is right now.</p><p>It’s all about the confidence really. If you can get someone to think that you know what you’re doing, you’re already halfway there.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Face sees her, eyes calculating. She’s running on false confidence and he knows it. He let it slide once, once in a cold suburb, floor full of auburn leaves. He’s sure he’s not going to do it again.</p><p> </p><p>That is until she does the smile, and then he knows what charm tastes of. It’s a sip of his own medicine. He’s never really been on the receiving end of a charm offensive, and so easy to give in. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s your name?” Murdock asks, and all three of them break out of the spell. The girl grimaces and then looks at him. </p><p> </p><p>“Akashti …. UH….” she’s cut off with Amy’s harried voice, in the background.</p><p>“That’s the kid I was telling you about.”</p><p> </p><p>“THATS the one?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah….” </p><p> </p><p>There’s a moment of silence, where the other three stare at Templeton glaring at the girl.</p><p> </p><p>And her angrily glaring back.</p><p> </p><p>It's like a mirror, the defiance, the anger, the con. </p><p> </p><p>BA’s the first to let out an all knowing sigh, and when Hannibal sees his eyes, he knows too. </p><p> </p><p>He'd need to have a talk with Face about actions and consequences.</p><p> </p><p>Fucking. Hell Face. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>damn did I try and write angst in half an hour? Yes. Yes I did.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What was dad like?” She asks, her fork stabbing into her potatoes. The sound of metal dulled by the softness of the potato. Decorations are strewn around, banners and balloons over the floor. </p><p> </p><p>“You live with your dad, why don't you ask him?” her mother retorts, sipping some orange juice. And she turns over to gesture at the man with his daughter playing some sort of balloon game. </p><p> </p><p>"That's daddy," she sighs, "what was DAD like. My dad." </p><p> </p><p>Her mother's face goes cold at that, and she meets Eddie's brown eyes from the other side of the room.</p><p> </p><p>She knows she's gone into deep, cold water. She's brought this question up multiple times, and every time she's been shushed. </p><p> </p><p>It's probably for the best, </p><p> </p><p>She'd given up asking at this point; that is until today. Today she decided she was sure she wanted answers. Some sort of answer. It was her sixteenth, she deserved something.</p><p> </p><p>"He was quite the charmer," her mother says quietly, "an extremely charming charmer."</p><p> </p><p>She rolls her eyes and continues to shovel a potato in her mouth, that was her mother’s standard answer to anything. A Charming Charmer. As if charmers are nothing but charming. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re quite like him, you know?” </p><p> </p><p>That takes her by surprise, “what??” she coughs, with a mouthful of potato. </p><p> </p><p>“Well not now you’re not, but you can be…”</p><p> </p><p>“I can be what?” she says, eyes fixated on this topic. She's never gotten this far with knowing about him. </p><p> </p><p>“You can be a little charming yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>She smiles a little at that,  </p><p> </p><p>But her mother’s quick to continue, “Anyway, I’m happy you’re not exactly like him”</p><p> </p><p>“Why? What’s he done?” </p><p> </p><p>“Between you and me,” and she leans in closer, “I’m pretty sure he’s a criminal now.” </p><p> </p><p>She chokes on her beans, half in surprise and half in laughter. Another hand pushes a glass of water in her hands and sips it. </p><p> </p><p>A <em>fugitive</em>??</p><p> </p><p>It's hilarious.</p><p> </p><p>She gets up to clear the plates off the table and turns around to see her mother on the sofa with Eddie and Angelica. </p><p> </p><p>It’s the perfect little family, to a T. She just doesn’t know where she fits in.</p><p> </p><p>Giving them a small smile, and muttering something about homework, she runs upstairs and opens a window. </p><p> </p><p>The fresh air floods in and she inhales a deep breath of it, the cold rushing in. She pulls a jumper over her head, and flips the lights off, crashing into the bed with a large ‘thump’. </p><p> </p><p>She feels bad for being jealous, jealous that there were a thousand families still together. </p><p>Jealous that she couldn’t be a proper part of the family downstairs. </p><p>Jealous why she couldn’t get a dad.</p><p> </p><p>Because it hurts. Being somewhere, but not quite. </p><p>Hurts not knowing.</p><p> </p><p>She rolls over in the darkness, feeling the warm tears leak over her eyes, onto her cheeks. She knows that she should have got something. A name? A description? Just...something...something which told her who she was.</p><p> </p><p>Something that didn't have her questioning everything. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>She turns over to the other side of the bed and snaps her fairy lights on. They flicker on and off, illuminating the room in a small warm yellow haze. </p><p>She cries.</p><p>Cries for answers she’d never get.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>At the cul-de-sac, a van parks itself, and a man stumbles out in a jumper. </p><p>He’s shaking, teary eyed, holding a tightly wrapped package. </p><p>He stumbles to the front door, and drops it onto the porch. </p><p>He can't bear to ring the doorbell.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The next morning, Akashti’s greeted with a golden wrapped present, addressed to her in neat print. </p><p>She checks the thing for some sort of identification. To her surprise there’s nothing but a note (which simply says ‘I thought you’d like it.’)</p><p> </p><p>“Wow thanks,” she chuckles to nobody in particular as she rips it open. </p><p> </p><p><em>The Art of the Con</em> tumbles out and she fingers the book, the tracing the letters embroidered on the cover. </p><p>There's a brooch next to it too. With a green stone embedded in it, a T engraved on it. It's worn with use and doesn't look that expensive anyway.</p><p>She pockets it without a second thought, somewhat attached to it already. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hsjsjskskdjd this is just a one off don't worry I'll update my other trash after I finish this one.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I like wrote this ,,,, after my EXAMS. i hope u like it because i for one can't write emotional angst wheee.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They sit on the side of the van, holding a burger in one hand. </p><p> </p><p>The older man on the side lights a cigar, whilst the other man leans back and grabs a bite. Murdock sits in the back of the van, legs swinging from his seat, eyes fixated on the other two men.</p><p> </p><p>They wait. </p><p> </p><p>When Face and Amy come back, they’re holding two keys. One probably a room where three of them can bunk in and one for Amy and another. </p><p>Hannibal’s hoping the Talk will be over before they part for the night. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>They kick their shoes off and Murdock cannonballs into the bed furthest away, quite literally falling asleep as soon as his head spends more than a minute on the pillow. </p><p>Hannibal sinks into the chair, shrugging his coat off and leaning back, watching BA unlace Murdock’s hi-tops from his feet through the smoke. Face is busy chatting to Amy, both probably talking about the cute receptionist. </p><p>He needs to start the conversation, but he’s got no idea. He’d never think they’d be here of all places.</p><p> </p><p>“Face?” He calls out, questioningly.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?” he grins, not missing a beat.</p><p> </p><p>“You ever think about having kids?” </p><p> </p><p>And he hears Face scoff at that, “Kids Hannibal? Hannibal do you even know me??” </p><p> </p><p>“You should have,” he looks at the cigar, and then throws the stub in the wastebasket in front of them. </p><p> </p><p>“Uh … why?”</p><p> </p><p>Amy’s looking now, biting her lip. She was hoping to avoid this conversation, she didn’t want to hear the ugly truth. BA looks down at his hands, pulling at a chain. He never expected this. </p><p> </p><p>Or did he?</p><p> </p><p>They all joked about Face’s libido, constantly. It was bound to happen someday. They’d just been avoiding it.</p><p> </p><p>There’s no other way to do this, no way to wait and let it come to him. No way to let it pass, and leave that poor kid another decade without a single answer. </p><p> </p><p>“Cause you might have one” BA takes the wheel, seeing Hannibal falter. </p><p>He’s never seen him falter. </p><p> </p><p>“Wh-?” Face makes a noise, similar to a wheeze. His face breaks into a grin, “You’re kidding me, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Murdock’s woken up at this point, “No,” he replies, in an equally cheery voice, seeing both BA and the colonel glaring at Face’s reaction, “No not at all gumball!”</p><p> </p><p>Face’s grin wipes itself off his face and he stumbles to the bed, next to Murdock, mumbling incoherently. </p><p> </p><p>“No?” </p><p> </p><p>It’s more of a question, a hollow repetition of the words he’d just heard. </p><p> </p><p>“No…” Hannibal shakes his head, watching as Murdock wraps a warm arm around Face, pulling him into a tight hug as the younger man stutters, shivering. </p><p> </p><p>“Wh?” he swallows, still in shock, and snuggles a little more into Murdock, “How?”</p><p> </p><p>“Probably the usual way?” Murdock snickers, and BA glares at him, the situation still volatile. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you remember anything around sixteen years ago?” Hannibal asks, softly this time.</p><p> </p><p>“Sixteen?” he exclaims, in disgust. Disgust at himself. Sixteen years? And he didn’t even know?</p><p> </p><p>The others take that as uncertainty and there's a “thought so” muttered.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” he coughs, all eyes turning towards him “kind of…”</p><p> </p><p>“Elaborate”</p><p> </p><p>“Well there was this girl… And we just had something… But it wasn’t anything much…” He splutters, “Back in ‘Nam, there was this businessman’s daughter.”</p><p> </p><p>“Something??” Hannibal questions, eyebrow raised, mouth set in a firm disappointed line. </p><p> </p><p>“She went wayy too fast!” He starts, “After a few weeks, she wanted me to meet her parents!”</p><p> </p><p>“Any goddamn reason why you think she’d ever want to do that??” Hannibal slams his hand on the table, eyes full of rage. </p><p> </p><p>The situation plays out by itself; BA looks at Face in utter disgust, Hannibal rises from his chair and paces around; Amy’s staring out of the window eyes welling up.</p><p> </p><p>And Murdock still holds onto Face’s hand. </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t!- ”</p><p> </p><p>“Did you even CARE???” Hannibal cuts him off, he’s not having any of this.</p><p> </p><p>He blinks, his hands shaking. He knows he’s gone too hard on his lieutenant, but something tells him he’d have to do this.</p><p> </p><p>He’d seen that kid with his own eyes. her expression a spitting copy of one he saw so often. A quick birth certificate search later, his suspicions were confirmed and there they were. </p><p> </p><p>“I did….” Face murmurs, feeling something wet rolling down his cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“Well not enough evidently.” </p><p> </p><p>“I ran…” he gulps, taking a deep breath to steady himself, “I ran because I was scared of committing to her.”</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal barks out a laugh, and Face glares at him indignantly, but who is he to judge? He’s been like this for god knows how long.</p><p> </p><p>“We…” he sobs a little, and Murdock hugs him again because he Knows. He knows how much this hurts. </p><p> </p><p>“We wanted to call the baby something beginning with a T” </p><p> </p><p>“Well she didn’t” Amy laughs a little, a sad sort of laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“How do you know?” </p><p> </p><p>“Go ask her yourself, I'm sure Amy can give you the details." </p><p> </p><p>And everything seems to fall together, the girl, the bauble, the $400. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter Nine (part 1)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“I’m sorry!” she snickers again, “you?? Criminal activity???”, she points at him. “You?????”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hEY GANG!!!! tests are over! and christmas holidays are in a WEEK!!! which means that i can start wrITiNg agAIn:&gt;<br/>idk who reads this anymore, it's just me and my own outrage that nothing like this has been made yet. But thank u so much for the support!! I love your comments and your kudos, they make me wanna 🥰🥰🥰.<br/>Anyway, this chapter is going to be in two parts, a) for dramatic effect and b) because i have planned to write more for this chapter but i actually haVENT wRiTTeN m o r e. Thank you once again for the c o m m e n t s and the k u d o s !!!! i lOVE u all my readers!!1<br/>p.s if u ship face and murdock theres an easter egg for that here ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tick Tock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The clock ticks away slowly, and she sits perched on a chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stares off into the pale blue void.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blonde man stares back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amy stands outside her office, running her hand through her long brown hair. Was this a good decision? Was this the right thing to do? Bring the two of them together, no prior warning to the kid? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really? Sixteen years?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He snaps back at reality at that, he’d just been in shock for the past few days. Denial, that he had a child. Templeton Peck, of all people. A Child.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Murdock told him that it wasn’t something to worry about; that it was very statistically probable; that he’d warm up to her in seconds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At first glance, she doesn’t even look like him. She doesn’t have the shock of blonde hair, or the baby blue eyes. She’s got tanned skin and long hair that swings behind her in two bunches, like it’s got a life of its own. She looks like a little replica of a businesswoman’s daughter he’d fallen for back in ‘Nam. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He'd seen photos of her. Lots of photos of her in the past 24 hours. Grinning, winking, talking. He knows that easy smile she has on her face all the time, he sees it in the mirror every day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he walks in, she's wearing a sweater, a bit too large for her. Something he'd picked for himself if he could shop at the ladies section. Soft, warm, and yet something with a side of class. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dulled pink and an aimless slogan on it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hey that was his own life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s looking at him, sternly, with eyes that look like they’ve always carried some kind of sympathy before.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some kind of naivety.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not after this though.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>"....Do you even know what happened to mom then?" She clears her throat and continues, her usual honey sweet voice now steely. Trying to hide some sort of emotion, given away by the tremble of her words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had checked up on Rita once or twice during the years. Once a phone call, and once an invite to her wedding with some guy called Eddie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well…" he starts, layering his voice with sugar, hiding the hint of jealousy in his voice, "I'm guessing she got married." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"She did, yeah." The sharp voice retorts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"To….?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Dad." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's short, monosyllabic, but he freezes when he hears it. He knew it was coming, but it felt so wrong. She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> daughter. Not some guy called Eddie. He wanted to be called dad. Not….not some budget husband.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Eh?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Eddie." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ah." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah he and mom have been married for around…" she takes a moment to count, she can always remember Eddie just being there, around them. "Around fifteen years."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s always been there, giving her all the piggyback rides and the trips to the fair and the presents under the Christmas tree. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Face whistled. Fifteen years. That was quite a lot of commitment. One he could probably never do. But he'd give up whatever hell his life was now, for a chance to live a quiet happy life with a family. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a quiet voice mutters in his head, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no he wouldn't have met Murdock if he'd dropped everything and went with Rita sixteen years ago. </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The quiet dark room falls into silence, and Amy stares from the outside as the man takes multiple deep breaths, as if trying to start a conversation, but not actually finding the words. She'd never seen Face lost for words before. He gives up quite soon and sinks back to his chair, eyes getting lost in watery pools. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In front of him, the girl tastes salt on her lips.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry." She blinks, and gives a smile, wiping the tears away. Tone drastically changing from the dangerous low words, to something more cheery. She takes off her glasses and rubs her eyes, and takes a few minutes to decide whether she wants them on or not. She perches them on the top of her head and turns back to the man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry, I didn't even introduce myself." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Are you sure?" He smiles back, a wobbly smile, "are you sure you want to talk?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't know how to be around kids. He's trying to give her space. He’s the one who always laughed at the idea of a little him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Nah, come on I stayed silent for sixteen years. I gotta start somewhere" she grins back, through watery eyes. "I'm Akashti." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Akashti…" Templeton rolls the name with his tongue, "I remember wanting to call you something which started with a T." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah but you didn't get to do that, did ya?" She smiles, but her voice is still sharp. The man gives her a small smile, and lets her continue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"My last name is officially Peck-Shah,” she pauses, she’s only ever seen that name on her passport, “mom wanted to call me that, because she was still hung up over you.” she clicks her tongue, trying to alleviate the awkwardness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Templeton smiles at that, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she's got his last name. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Something inside of him shivers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's all becoming too real.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"So...what else?" He asks, crossing a leg, confidence slowly coming back, </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing much,” she looks back at him, mirroring his confidence. She leans forward and places an elbow on her knee, and a head on her hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amy peers in from the window, silently questioning the two. It seemed like the two were...thawing to each other? In their own dysfunctional way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s up with you?” she asks, with an air of disinterest, false disinterest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh you know, the usual.” Face gives a nervous smile, “the criminal activi-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s interrupted by a small giggle from the girl in front of him, she catches him staring and places a hand on her mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry!” she snickers again, “you?? Criminal activity???”, she points at him. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You?????</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>if u liked this, leave a kudo!!! 🥰<br/>[psst! or a comment :&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; ❤️ ]</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If u liked this ! Leave a Kudoooooo</p></blockquote></div></div>
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